Chatterbox: Inkwell

Reincarnation of a teacher I... well let's just say I don't like her too much. For some background info, she is a music teacher, always wears high heels, can sing opera, play the fiddle, and has long white hair. She's one of those people who just rubs it into your face all the stuff they can do and you can't.

The squishy white little grub scrunched along, making it's way over rock and rubble. 

It wriggled with joy when it reached the small, soft hole in the dirt. This was where dinner was served. Or eaten, anyway.

The grub slimed over towards a promising clump of soil. It burrowed in and started chomping away. Bug juice and plant matter streamed down it's ugly white face as it slurped and nibbled on it's buggy delicacies. 

This grub was no ordinary grub. This was the Prize Grub! It could play the fiddle, sing in a high screechy voice, and even braid it's own wisps of white hair.

It had fashioned itself a pair of high heels out of small bits of rock quite some time ago. It used pieces of grass to tie them on, and was the cause of much jealousy from all the other lady grubs. The prize Grub was the fattest, squishiest and juiciest of all the grubs. She had won several beauty contests that were held annually in Grub Square, and was the champion fiddler. 

And yet, no bird had ever tasted this fine, fat specimen. No chicken had picked this supple white beauty out of the earth. No robin had swallowed this plump juicy grub. 

Well, the other women grubs were getting mad. They had had enough. Prize Grub was stealing the men and the glory. So, they decided to do something.

One day, the Prize Grub was nibbling on a tasty aphid. The other girl grubs scrunched over and began chewing a clump of dirt next to the champ. they made small talk, and soon began to discuss the up coming beauty competition. 

They complimented and lade it on thick, saying they were sure Prize Grub was going to win.

When they began to edge slowly away, Prize Grub began to follow the flatterers, wishing to hear more of their glorifying statements. They led the unsuspecting grub out to the open, talking casually all the way. Then, they wriggled away as fast as their slimy little selves could go, leaving Prize Grub stranded in the open, dangerous land.

Suddenly, before Prize Grub knew what had happened,  a fat, gleaming white wiandot chicken pecked it's way over, snapped up the fat little worm, high heels and all, and strutted proudly away, reveling in the glory of finally eating Prize Grub and the wonderful savory taste of her. 

And as for the other girl grubs, they sadly replied, "She perished," with cast down eyes. 

 And so, they all shared the deceased grub's fiddle and played to impress, but not as well of course as Prize Grub ever did. And they never did get the hang of braiding their hair, or making their own high heels. And so, to this day, Prize Grub's legacy lives on.

****

Of course, it's funnier if you know this person.